Cheer
by planet p
Summary: Chloe writes her dad a letter for Valentine’s Day.


**Cheer** by planet p

**Disclaimer **I don't own _SGU_ or any of its characters.

* * *

Chloe sighed. It wasn't really Valentine's Day if they weren't on Earth, was it?

Still, if it meant cake, or something else yummy, then she wouldn't complain. Not that she had any idea where the cake would be coming from, mind you. She just really liked the idea of cake, at that point.

She sat in 'the Mess,' watching Camile writing a letter to a loved one back on Earth, or maybe she wasn't writing a letter, at all, maybe she was only making notes.

Chloe thought it'd be nicer to go with the letter option, so she went with that one.

She wondered if maybe she should write something, herself. She could write her dad a letter, and even though she wouldn't be able to put it in his hand, the act of writing the letter would clarify her thoughts, and, if he was listening from somewhere else, he'd hear her much more clearly.

Like a prayer, she supposed. Except, she didn't pray.

She suppressed a second sigh. If there wasn't going to be any cake, then she didn't see why she needed to stay in the Mess, waiting around. She could leave to find Eli and Lt. Scott, to wish them a happy Valentine's Day. And T.J.

She stood up and walked out of the Mess, wondering where it might be best to begin her search.

* * *

Eli had a hug for her, which she thought nice, and Lt. Scott, or Matthew, nodded. T.J. grinned and shook her head, as though she didn't think it really counted, out in space.

Chloe still liked to think that it counted, she decided, just like birthdays counted. She was thinking about cake again. Why couldn't she stop thinking about cake, today?

She made her way back to her quarters, taking her time.

But, as it turned out, she didn't have any paper, let alone anything to write with. She wondered who she'd be able to ask to lend theirs; it wasn't as though they were made of paper.

She walked back to the Mess, and noticed that Camile was no longer sitting at the table she'd been at before.

With a sigh, she began to make her way over to the table she'd taken before, and noticed that Rush was sitting across the Mess, safely out of harm's way of any dubious conversations that might be overheard, reading.

Perhaps, he wanted his concentration, Chloe thought. She noticed, too, that he had a pencil. Well, it looked, from the distance she was standing at from him, to be a pencil. Maybe he was using it to mark something on what he was reading, or make annotations.

She wasn't really into the channelling mode, at the moment. She just wanted to write her dad a letter, really.

Maybe she could borrow the pencil, she decided. If she promised it to be a short letter.

She changed her course and redirected her steps in the direction of the table Rush was sitting at. She wondered what sort of conversations he wasn't in the mood to hear. Probably the ones where he was paranoid, or mad, or in love with the _Destiny_ and couldn't give two hoots about the rest of her human passengers.

If it was her, she probably wouldn't want to listen to it, either.

Besides, it was kind of old.

Or maybe there was a new rumour that she was yet to catch that put all of the old ones to shame.

Though, she figured, if it was true, then maybe it needed to be talked about.

"Are you really in love with the ship?" she asked, when she'd gotten close enough that she thought he'd be able to hear her.

"I'm currently busy," he replied. He'd obviously heard her.

She took a seat opposite him, carefully. She kept her voice low, "So?"

"'So' what?" He looked up, annoyed, and met her gaze.

"Are you in love with the ship?" she asked, feeling a bit silly. A bit of a smile came onto her face.

He laughed. "I'm not in love with anyone," he told her.

"Not ever."

He made a face. "No, not 'not ever.' Not now."

She poked her tongue out at him, grinning. "Are you lying?"

He returned his attention to what he'd been reading before her interruption.

"Do you want me to go?" she asked after some moments. It was too quiet; she couldn't help speaking.

"That would be helpful."

She giggled.

He darted a glance up to meet her gaze, momentarily.

"I'm not going," she told him, a hand half covering her mouth.

"Suit yourself," he muttered.

She smiled.

* * *

"I came over to ask if I could borrow your pencil," she revealed, later. "I decided, a while ago, that I'd write something, only, I then discovered that I not only did not have anything on which to write, but that I really didn't have anything with which _to_ write, either." She mock gagged. "That was garishly long."

"Hmm?"

She laughed, scrunching up her nose. "You were listening!"

"I'm afraid I wasn't," Rush told her.

She crossed her arms, but his expression remained unchanged. "Can I borrow the pencil?" she asked.

A frown crossed his face, and he shook his head.

"And some paper!" She pointed a finger at him, but she was grinning. "Don't say 'no.'"

"What would you need it for, may I ask?"

"I'm writing a letter."

Rush didn't say anything; she supposed he meant her to go on.

"Not to my secret crush! To my dad!"

"To your father?" he asked, unconvinced.

She put on a serious face. "To Eli, then."

And, to her amazement, the pencil was handed over, along with a sheet of paper. She flashed him a thank-you smile.

* * *

_Dad,_

_Well, you know how much I love you, so I guess I'd just seem fake writing Dear Dad._

_Ah ha! I love you!_

_It's Valentine's Day. I know! I'm on a spaceship. How weird!_

_I miss you._

_Dr. Rush thinks I'm writing Eli a secret love letter. It's the only way I could get him to lend me the pencil and paper, and I don't think it's that bad!_

_It's so naughty! Ha, ha!_

She felt like choking. It was so bad!

She forgot about that, and began writing anew, from the start.

_Dad,_

_I love you, and wish you were here still. I get that you can't be, though._

_I hope that you're okay wherever you've gone, and could you please watch over Mom._

_Chlo._

Pleased with her second attempt, she read through it again, and sat for a while just staring at the page. Maybe she should make that 'Chloe.' The comment about her mom was true, though; she missed her mom as much as her dad, though, as far as she was aware, her mom was still alive, and she hoped that her mom was okay.

Maybe, one day, they'd make it home. She just had to hold onto that hope, she realised.

"I've finished, and you can't make me tell you what it says!"

She'd tried to be a bit cheerier than usual, in the spirit of the occasion, but it didn't seem to work on Rush.

He took the pencil back without even looking at her properly, or maybe he'd looked at her briefly, and she just hadn't noticed.

She'd been thinking about her mom and dad, after all.

She watched him for a moment, wondering if now he really wanted her to go. But he wasn't saying anything. Maybe he just expected her to go, just like that.

She wondered if he was down. Well, shouldn't he have already asked her to go, or told her to go?

She reached out a hand to touch his. It wasn't that bad. Yeah, they were lost in space, but at least, like, they weren't being attacked by creepy alien monsters… as far as they knew.

Snapping back to reality, she noticed that her hand was still on Rush's, and that he was frowning at her. "Don't be sad!" she told him quickly. "I'll… get Eli to tell me a good joke, and then you'll never hear the end of it. I'll just keeping telling it to absolutely everyone!"

Rush didn't look fazed.

She took her hand off his. "You should smile, you know," she blurted. "You'll get un-smiley lines… and everyone will think you're old!" She stifled a cough. Well, not everybody could be good at pep talks!

"I'm not sad," Rush told her plainly.

"I would be!" she told him haphazardly, feeling her face begin to flame, and snatched up her letter to her dad. "If I were you!" she added, hastily, and turned on her heel and fled.

That had really gone down well, she reflected.

* * *

_Chloe,_

_I do believe that there is such a state in which one might find oneself as being neither happy, nor unhappy. So, you see, I wasn't sad, but that isn't to say that I was happy, either._

_You don't have to feel as though it's up to you to cheer up every single person you think is discontented. That, I think, aside from proving an impossible task, would get under the skin of a sizable quantity of the people here, on the ship._

_You don't want to be making enemies that way, even if it is by doing something that you see as only trying to help; I can tell you now, they're not all going to see it that way._

_I appreciate the gesture, however._

_Signed,_

_Nicholas Rush._

_In Postscript, I am sure that the most of the persons onboard this vessel are aware of my age, or have an approximation somewhere in the relative field, and, in truth, I couldn't be any less worried by what age they might, unknowingly, assume me to be._

_If you believe in that sort of thing, a pleasant Valentine's Day to you, Chloe._

_N. R._

* * *

The further he progressed along as he read the letter over for inconsistencies, the more he realised that he'd never actually give it to Chloe.

It just wouldn't be all that wise, he supposed.

* * *

Chloe flopped down on her bed, only to spring back to her feet, a moment later, at a crunching, crinkling sound.

Oh, someone had put a piece of paper on her bed. Or maybe it was a letter. She couldn't really tell, because it'd been folded over.

She reached down to pick it up, and unfolded it, hoping it wasn't anything awful, like somebody telling her that she talked in her sleep, or snored, or something, and that she should stop.

Then she kind of got worried that it would be from Eli, and that he'd be asking her 'out,' and she really wouldn't know what to say to him, then, because, well, it wasn't just that they were on a spaceship and that, technically, they couldn't go outside the majority of the time-

But it wasn't a letter from Eli.

It was a drawing of a rose.

Just that.

Just a rose.

Not in colour or anything, but maybe it'd be done with a black pen.

She turned around and sat down on her bed, and looked at the drawing for a while.

It was well done, for a drawing.

She folded the piece of paper back up and put it under her pillow.

Next to the rose had been a set of initials penned in a tidy hand.

Chloe had a feeling that told her she already knew who N. R. was.

* * *

_I have no idea why I'm writing something about Valentine's Day for now, when it really isn't even close to the day. Your guess is as good as mine. Thanks for reading._


End file.
